


Sunflower.

by yeocore



Series: yellow [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Hanahaki Disease, I Made Myself Cry, I don't ship seongjoong but it's important for the plot, M/M, Seonghwa is an idiot, Seongsang nation I'm sorry, Sickness, Unrequited Love, Vomiting, Wooyoung is an amazing best friend, Yeosang I'm so sorry, and so did my two beta readers, he loves Yeosang so much, just not in this fic, literally just 4.5k of angst, seongsang best ship, so does San, sorry Hwa, there's no happy ending, trigger warnings are as follows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 12:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20447153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeocore/pseuds/yeocore
Summary: In which Yeosang coughs up sunflower petals because Seonghwa will never love him the way he needs him to.





	Sunflower.

Seonghwa was Yeosang's whole universe. He was brighter than the sun, brighter than the moon and all of the stars in the galaxy. Yeosang revolved around the elder, he clung to him as if he was his anchor. The younger thought that this was true: without his hyung, he was nothing.

It was hard not to fall in love with Park Seonghwa. He was beautiful, inside and out. Loving, funny, selfless, the epitome of all things good, and Yeosang was whipped. The problem with that, though? Seonghwa did not love Yeosang back, at least, not in that way. The two had become friends when they were young, and they had been inseparable ever since. While Yeosang's affections grew and blossomed into the desire to hold Seonghwa's hands and kiss his lips, the elder's love remained constant, strictly platonic.

Admitting his 'crush' on his hyung had come easily to Yeosang. He knew that the swoop in his chest whenever the other smiled at him was undeniable attraction.

The problem, however, came in two ways.

The first was Kim Hongjoong.

Hongjoong was Seonghwa's boyfriend. The younger of the duo had transferred into Seonghwa's Chemistry class--oh, the irony--halfway through the semester, roughly two months prior. Seonghwa was immediately enamored by the other, and the day the two had met, Yeosang came home to his hyung sprawled upon the couch, a small smile on his face, eyes unfocused.

Upon seeing this, Yeosang felt nausea roll into his stomach, knowing exactly what it meant. He had approached the other, who immediately focused on him, and spent roughly an hour gushing over the cute, and short, redhead who had just been added into his class. Yeosang was forced to sit next to him and smile, as Seonghwa talked and squeezed his favorite toothless plushie--a gift Yeosang had given him for his birthday.

By the time Yeosang went to bed that night, he felt the sting of unshed tears prick the corners of his eyes, and he struggled to swallow as his throat burned, chest tight. He knew there was no hope for him, then. And soon, his cheeks were wet and salty, bottom lip aching from biting it to keep his sobs quiet.

As he cried that night, his second problem arose.

A faint tickle started in his chest, and then moved to his throat, causing his breathe to catch as he choked and began to cough. As he brought his hand up to his mouth and a particularly strong cough racked his body, the tickle stopped, and his looked into his palm to see a lone yellow sunflower petal. The earth stopped spinning.

Yeosang knew two things in that moment. First, sunflowers were Seonghwa's favorite flower. Second, he was completely and helplessly in love with his best friend.

Coming to terms with the idea of his condition was a peaceful process for Yeosang. Rather than continue to cry over the sticky, wrinkled petal which lay upon his palm, a blanket of calmness wrapped itself around him. He took one final shuddering breath before wiping his eyes, standing from the bed, and walking to the bathroom.

There, he stood before the toilet, and let the yellow patch fall into the bowl, flushing it quickly and watching it spin round and round until it was out of sight. Yeosang felt a small hiccup in his heart as the world began to move again. Hanahaki was common knowledge in his society, but it was rare. Roughly 2% of the population carried the gene and showed signs. Those with hanahaki knew that there were only two outcomes. One, confess and hope that the love would eventually become reciprocated. Or two, die slowly, painfully, as the disease spread.

Yeosang was not going to pursue the former option, because he knew that Seonghwa would never see him like that. If after 12 years, the elder still did not love him, yet was already enraptured with the small redhead in his chemistry class, there was no point in even trying. Thus, he chose the only option left.

The brown-haired boy returned to his room and began packing a bag with clothes and other essentials. He grabbed his phone, and pulled up the only other person he knew he could trust.

The phone rang only once before Wooyoung picked up. A raspy _Hello?_ filtered through the speaker, weak and quiet. The other must have just been drifting off to sleep.

"Youngie? Can I stay with you for a while?" Yeosang's voice sounded pathetically broken, and there was shuffling on the other end, as if Wooyoung already knew what had happened and was getting up.

"Sangie baby, what's wrong? Come right over. Actually no, you stay there, I'm coming to get you, let me just put my shoes on. Don't worry baby, I'll be right there. Stay on call with me, alright?"

Yeosang wasn't sure if it was the pet name Wooyoung used only when the elder needed comfort, or his offer to come pick him up, but he started crying again. Just little hiccups and sniffles into the microphone, which caused Wooyoung to whisper a soft _that's right, let it all out, baby. I'll take no more than five minutes._

The older simply nodded, though he knew Wooyoung couldn't see him. He heard the other talking softly, most likely to San who was no doubt in Wooyoung's bed, before the sound of a door shutting echoed over the line.

~

Wooyoung arrived in exactly five minutes, just as he said he would, and Yeosang stumbled out of the apartment complex with his beanie on his head, his bag in his arms, and his bottom lip trembling. He wasn't sure how Seonghwa didn’t wake up when he left, but he was thankful.

As soon as he sat down and closed the door, Wooyoung reached over and pulled him across the center console into a hug. Peace once again flooded over Yeosang, and he took a shaky breath as Wooyoung kissed his head.

"I don't know what happened, but it's all gonna work out, alright? We'll get through this together."

The drive back to Wooyoung's apartment was quiet, the darkness outside causing Yeosang to look at the clock and widen his eyes as he read 2:40am, not realizing how late it was. Wooyoung's hand was laced with his, and he simply gave an occasional squeeze until the two arrived.

Wooyoung grabbed his bag for him, and held his hand all the way up to the apartment, not letting go even as he opened the door. Yeosang had never been more grateful for Wooyoung as he was at that moment. The two became friends back in high school, and now, as college sophomores, they had been best friends for five years. Wooyoung liked to call himself Yeosang's platonic soulmate.

Once inside, they were greeted by San, who gave Yeosang a warm hug before disappearing into the kitchen. Wooyoung led Yeosang over to his couch, sitting beside him, and drawing the elder into his chest, wrapping his arms around him, and placing another kiss upon his head. Yeosang melted into the embrace, and only pulled away when San reappeared holding a mug. He reached up to accept it, inhaling the scent of chamomile with a small _thank you_.

Nothing was said as San settled himself on the other side of Yeosang, close enough to warm him, but not touching. San was Wooyoung's boyfriend of two years. The two fit into each other like puzzle pieces, and were completely in love with each other.

Eventually, Yeosang was relaxed enough to speak. He decided to be straightforward, and not hide anything from the two.

"I have hanahaki," he spoke quietly, his voice cracking slightly. San's head immediately whipped up, and Wooyoung's eyes widened as he stiffened.

"What?" Wooyoung's voice was so small and hurt that Yeosang almost believed _he_ was the one which spoke the previous sentence, rather than himself. The younger's arms grew tight around Yeosang, as if scared to let go.

"You heard me, Wooyoungie. I'm in love with Seonghwa-hyung, and he's interested in someone else. This was bound to happen eventually, you know that."

It was as if Seonghwa's name was a trigger, as Yeosang felt a pressure in his chest rise and push into his throat. His body began to shake with a cough, and both Wooyoung and San gasped in shock, as Yeosang heaved one final time with his hands to his mouth.

Another yellow petal lay there in the cup of his hands, and Wooyoung felt a tear spill from the corner of his eye as it sank in. Hanahaki was lethal, and what started as one petal, sticky and wet, would soon become two, then three, and eventually the yellow would tint with the red of blood as the disease worsened. Eventually, Yeosang would become too sick to even stand, and then…

Then it would be too late. There was no medical cure for this. His best friend was dying.

~

The morning immediately after his departure, he awoke to thirty missed calls from Seonghwa, and roughly two-hundred texts. He didn't listen to any of the voicemails, and didn't read the texts. Instead, he sent a simple _I need some time away. Please don't worry about me_.

Seonghwa replied immediately with _Okay…be safe, my petal. I love you, and can't wait to have you back :(_. He didn't push, because he never did.

Yeosang felt the sting in his chest which was becoming familiar far too quickly for his liking, and smiled wryly at the glistening patch of yellow. A petal from within him, Seonghwa's petal. But, not _Seonghwa's_ petal, no, never would he be that. The elder's nickname for him had never felt more bitter, and the "I love you" never more painful.

Closing his hand over the flower, he wandered into the kitchen. Wooyoung was standing there over the stove, and the elder went over and buried his head in Wooyoung's neck.

"Can I have a glass jar, please? Or if you don't have one, can you take me to buy one?"

The request puzzled Wooyoung, but he simply pulled away and hummed, reaching into one of the cabinets and pulling an empty jar out. Neither said a word as Yeosang wandered back into the spare bedroom which he would be his home for the coming months. He went to the bed and reached under the pillow, pulling out the petal he had coughed up the night prior. Then, he took both to the bathroom. Once there, he set the jar atop the counter, and gently began to wash the yellow bits of flower. He handled them gently, and then dried them with a tissue, so that they were clean. Finally, Yeosang opened the jar, and dropped the two inside, before tightening the lid.

He then went back out to the kitchen, and now both Wooyoung and San were at the counter, speaking quietly.

"Sorry, can I have a marker or something, too?" The question started the two who were deep in discussion, and San nodded before going to fetch one. Wooyoung looked over and his eyes widened the slightest bit at the jar which his hyung had clutched tightly in his arms, as if it were a plushie.

"Yeosangie, what's that for?" He felt dread seep into his chest, already having an idea of what Yeosang was going to say.

San returned before he could reply, and handed him the permanent marker without a word, going back to sit at the counter.

Yeosang was quiet for a second, scribbling something onto the metal lid, before looking up and meeting Wooyoung's wary eyes.

"I'm going to die, Wooyoung. When that happens, I want you to promise me that you won't say a word to him until after I'm gone. Promise me you won't tell him that I have the disease, I don't want him to know until I'm dead. Then, after it's all over, ask him to pick my things up from the spare room. Let him do what he wants with _anything_ in that room."

San, who was pale and silent, saw the way Yeosang's grip tightened ever so slightly on the jar.

"Yeosang, you can't be serious." The desperation in Wooyoung's voice was like a knife in comparison to the soft breeze of Yeosang's plea.

"_Wooyoung_, promise me."

The younger felt the tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He simply released a shaky breath and lowered his gaze from the piercing eyes of his friend.

"Okay baby, I promise."

~

Over the next two months, Yeosang became a shell of himself. He was barely able to bring himself to attend classes, and with every passing day, he wondered if there was even a point of doing so. Wooyoung begged him at least five times a day to let him tell Seonghwa what was happening, but Yeosang refused every single time. San never said a word about it, which Yeosang was thankful for.

Being away from his hyung helped to slow the spread of the disease, and by the time it had been a month, he was only coughing up two flowers a day, with no blood. He was weakening, yes, but it wasn't as bad as it would've been had he continued to live with Seonghwa. Yeosang never let thoughts of his impending fate take over.

Two days into the second month, San came home from class with a twisted frown upon his face. When he saw Yeosang on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and shivering, he almost walked right back out of the apartment.

"Sannie? What is it? I know something's wrong, please tell me." Yeosang's voice was shaking, and San felt his heart slowly crumbling piece by piece.

The younger came and sat next to him, causing Yeosang to immediately cuddle into him in search of warmth. The hanahaki had caused the fever the afternoon prior, the reason was what he was about to discover, and it still hadn't broken.

San exhaled sharply, looking pitifully at his hyung. The elder was thinner, eyes sunken, their usually light faded. He knew what he was going to tell him would break him even further, but he deserved to know.

"I saw Seonghwa today, he was walking with someone, and they were holding hands. He came up to me and I had to keep myself from punching him. They're together, Sangie. Have been since yesterday…" San's voice grew weak as he finished, and he felt the small shivers of his hyung grow stronger, causing him to look down. Yeosang was shaking, eyes filled to the brim with tears, a few already leaking down his once chubby cheeks.

The younger pulled Yeosang into his lap, holding him tightly around the waist as a few tears began to fall from his own eyes. Yeosang buried his face into San's neck, and he began to finally cry, loudly and unfiltered. Loud sobs began to rack his body, eyes squeezed shut, nose running, saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth. He stayed there for what felt like forever as San rubbed his back. never loosening his grip, and occasionally placing a soft kiss into his hair. The pressure in his chest began to build stronger than it ever had before, and he began to feel like he was drowning. He started gasping, choking, as if suffocating. San stiffened as he realized what was happening, and picked the elder up before rushing him to the bathroom, kneeling before the toilet.

He began to gently coax Yeosang to breathe, and patted his back until the choking turned to coughing, violent spasms which caused his entire body to shake. Finally, finally, Yeosang let out a final heave and bright yellow petals poured from his mouth. He sunk back against San, drained and weak, and gazed at the nine sunflower petals in the toilet bowl. Each was stained with bright red splotches of blood.

He coughed once more, and caught the tenth sticky flower in his hand, looking at it with blank eyes. He was dying, truly and irreversibly dying.

~

As San began to run him a bath, Yeosang took the bloody petal and washed it in the sink, eyebrows furrowing as the red stayed upon the silky surface, refusing to fade. Finally, he gave up, and went back to the bedroom to add it to the jar, which was now halfway filled. He knew it was a bit gross to added this one in, but he was tired, and he didn't care. His collection had become the only way in which he was able to ground himself, it was morbid, and twisted, but he felt as if he would fall apart if he didn't add one every day.

~

From then on, he only got worse. He stopped going to class, he stopped eating, he stopped caring. He could barely walk two weeks later, and Wooyoung had to both help him get to the restroom, as well as force feed him whatever his stomach would keep down. The jar of sunflowers now sat beside his bedside on the desk, more red and orange than crisp yellow. Yeosang also refused to look at his phone, which was filled with text and calls of asking him when he would be coming home.

Yeosang didn't have the heart to tell him that would never happen. He often woke in the middle of the night sweating, eyes stained with the image of Seonghwa's smile, or Seonghwa's eyes, or anything Seonghwa at all. Sometimes, we swore he could hear that beautiful laugh, that calming voice, or feel the way Seonghwa used to wrap himself around Yeosang at night when he would have nightmares. He missed the elder's sweet scent, honey and rose.

_Everything was always Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa._

Yeosang wasn't blind, he wasn't deaf. He knew he was hurting Wooyoung and San. He heard his best friend crying night after night after he put Yeosang to bed, when he thought the older was asleep. He heard the way Wooyoung just wanted to tell Seonghwa, the way he just wanted to _save him_.

Yeosang also knew that no matter how much Wooyoung threatened to tell Seonghwa, he wouldn't. He wouldn't betray his best friend like that. It broke him, knowing that Yeosang didn't have much time left, that there was the chance that he could survive, but he also knew that Yeosang would never forgive him. He had made his decision.

~

It happened four days later.

Yeosang woke with a start, feeling like he couldn't breathe. He struggled to inhale, unable to catch his breath. His lungs were on fire, and he somehow dragged himself to the bathroom down the hall, gasping for air. San and Wooyoung had gone out to get Yeosang a cake, because it was his 19th birthday, and they wanted to give even him the slightest happiness.

He made it to the entrance of the bathroom and heaved a cough. Blood splattered upon the cream tile, and Yeosang kept pushing to the toilet, sinking in front of it and shoving a finger down his throat, hoping to dislodge the petals which were making his vision falter. He felt relief as they loosened, and he gagged, letting out another heave. His eyes squeezed shut in pain, and he felt petals began to pour from his chapped, pale lips. Finally, finally, he could breathe. Yellow and red swirled together into the bowl, and across the floor, and Yeosang braced his hands upon the tiles, still coughing and shuddering. His vision continued to go in and out of focus, and he saw stars swim across the darkness in his gaze. After he had coughed it all up, he felt his body become light in the worst way possible.

The room began to swim, and a ringing filtered into his ears. He began to hear his own heartbeat, and the way it seemed to become slow and sluggish. He grasped a petal by his hand, fingers wrapping around the stickiness of it. He focused on the way the yellow barely poked through the clumps of deep red. Slowly, slowly, he felt himself sink to the ground in slow motion. His head hit the tiles with a crack, and still, he squeezed the petal into his palm.

"Gotta…put it…in the jar…" Yeosang's voice was barely above a whisper, and every word was a struggle to push past his lips. His head began to ache from where he hit it, but he barely felt it.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered shut, and slowly, his breathing began to match the slow, unsteady rhythm of his heart.

Slowly, Yeosang felt a blanket of darkness settle upon his body, a coldness began to seep into his chest, and slowly, the pain of the past two months faded away into nothing.

Slower still, his grip upon the bloodied petal loosened.

And then, he saw someone familiar behind his eyelids, permanently etched there. His eyes, his smile. He heard his laugh echo in his ears, a beautiful melody, he felt himself be held, and he smiled.

In a voice barely audible, Kang Yeosang, just turned nineteen that day, once vibrant and full of life, who now lay in a puddle of his own blood and sunflower petals, uttered his final word.

"Seonghwa."

And then, slowly, his hand fell away from the vibrant flower in his palm, and rested against the cold tile in silence.

~

Wooyoung and San entered the apartment, chocolate cake in hand.

"Yeosang! Baby! Hyungie! Happy birthday, we have a surprise!" Wooyoung called out, a small smile etched upon his mouth. Receiving no reply, he began to make his way to the bedroom to wake Yeosang. The curl of his lips fell as he saw the stain of blood in the doorway of the bathroom. Blood began to pound in his ears, and he clutched the cake box, stepping into the entrance. Silence, all Wooyoung heard was silence. The earth, for the second time, stopped spinning.

The cake fell to the ground in silence, and dirtied the carpet and tile. Wooyoung opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He felt the ground rush toward him as he fell to his knees, and still, all he heard was silence.

San, grabbing the milk out of the fridge, dropped it, as a pained scream reached his ears. He rushed over to the source, and nearly tripped over the cake as he saw his boyfriend curled over a lump on the floor, amidst a sea of red and yellow.

Wooyoung was shaking violently, clutching onto Yeosang's lifeless body, pulling him up to his chest and rocking back and forth, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Sangie, Sangie, Sangie. Please, oh god, no. No, no, no! Not now, not like this, no please. Sangie, baby, please wake up, no, no, no. Don't leave me, you can’t be gone," Wooyoung's voice was desperate and scratchy.

San felt the air rush out of him as he stepped forward, kneeling beside Wooyoung, brushing the hair from Yeosang's closed eyes. Those beautiful eyes which would never open again.

~

Seonghwa had been calling Yeosang all morning, Hongjoong curled up against his side, looking absolutely tiny in his hoodie. It was his petal's birthday, and he hadn't seen him for the past two months. He missed him, wanted to hug him and ask him why he left, ask him what had bothered him so much that he had to leave. He wanted to introduce his best friend to his boyfriend.

A sigh left his lips as he gave up after hearing the phone go to voicemail for the thirtieth time. Yeosang had not responded to any of his daily texts, and every time he saw San and Wooyoung, they refused to tell him anything. He had even gone to Wooyoung's apartment on multiple occasions to see Yeosang, but San had always answered the door, and said Yeosang was busy. What worried Seonghwa was that Wooyoung was always hovering behind him, looking conflicted, as if he wanted to tell him something.

Later that day, when Seonghwa and Hongjoong were having dinner, the elder received a call.

He picked up the phone as he saw Wooyoung's name come up, smiling, and ready to ask if he could speak to Yeosang, but before he could utter a _Hello_, the younger's voice came through, shaky and weak as if he had been crying.

Seonghwa's smile instantly dropped, feeling dread pool in his stomach.

"Seonghwa-hyung…I'm so sorry, so, so sorry. He made me promise not to tell you until he was gone, I'm so sorry," Seonghwa heard Wooyoung begin to cry again and he paled, not quite understanding.

"Youngie, what is it? What's wrong, I don't understand?"

"Hyung, Yeosang is dead."

The world lurched, and the phone fell onto the carpet with a dull thud.

~

The next day, Seonghwa stood outside of Wooyoung's doorway. Last night was a blur, and he felt numb, all he remembers after being told that Yeosang was gone was a single word. A word which burned his tongue: hanahaki.

Yeosang had died from hanahaki disease, and Wooyoung would not tell him who had caused his petal's life to be cut so short. Yeosang was his moon, his galaxy, his universe. He had loved the younger more than he had loved anyone in his life, and he wished he could have saved him. Anyone would have been lucky to be loved by him, and Seonghwa wants to hurt whoever had refused him.

San opened the door, eyes puffy and red, much like his own. He let him in without a word, and Seonghwa immediately spotted Wooyoung, who was crying atop the couch, arms grasping Yeosang's favorite sweater.

"He said that you were the only one allowed to touch his things after he was gone. You can go right in."

Seonghwa turned to thank the other, but San was looking at him with pure malice in his eyes, and suddenly Seonghwa had never been so cold.

Upon entering the room, he felt the urge to walk right out. This was the room which Yeosang had spent his final two months, becoming sicker and sicker, until eventually, it was too late. Seonghwa sat on the bed, drawing the sheets up to his nose, inhaling the familiar scent that was _Yeosang_. He felt his breath catch, and his throat tighten.

He went to stand when a flash of yellow caught his eyes. He turned and saw a jar resting on the small bedside table. It was filled with sunflower petals, those at the bottom crisp and yellow, while those on the top were stained with blood.

Seonghwa felt like he was going to be sick, and a single tear began to stain his cheek, salty and wet.

He shakily reached out and lifted the glass jar, scared to read the small note on the lid, even though he knew deep in his heart what it would say.

For the third time, the earth stopped spinning.

_For my precious Park Seonghwa, whom my heart will forever belong to._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this, I know it was super sad, but this is my first fic, and my mind was telling me to write angst. Follow me on twitter? @yeocores


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